PEOPLE CAN CHANGE. I did, and I am better for it. I used to use drugs. I became addicted and that drove me to do some unspeakable things before I was rescued.
It wasn’t easy, but I stopped using. I managed to cleanup myself and have remained clean for nearly two years.
But even though I went through rehabilitation; even though my family has been told how hard I worked to get out of being dependent on drugs, no one around me is giving me credit for my effort.
I know I messed up.
I know I disappointed a lot of people who cared for me.
I know I cannot expect them to forget the stealing I did from them to maintain my habit.
And I know they cannot forget how I shamed our entire family when I used to prostitute myself to get money.
I get that. I understand their reluctance.
But it seems that everybody expects me to relapse, or are hoping for it. I’m not sure which.
I feel if they can see you making a genuine attempt to change your life as I am doing, then they should work with you. They should be encouraging me by being positive in their approach and suggestions to help me get back on my feet.
But that’s not happening. Instead, they always have something negative to say. They are always dredging up the past. They keep acting as if I will start behaving like the monster I used to be.
I know they don’t trust me given what I did. I get it that. I have to earn their trust again. And I know that will take time.
But all I am asking for is a chance to prove I have changed. All I am asking is that they stop judging me on how I used to behave. They should judge me on who I am now, and what I do now.
To show you how ridiculous the situation is since I returned home, none of my family at any of the three houses I go to allow me to even enter the house unless someone is there. And when I come in they restrict me to at most the front-house and the toilet.
I am expected to sit and talk in the front-house. I cannot get up and move. I cannot touch anything. And no conversation can go on for five minutes before my old life is mentioned or referred to.
It has come to the point that sometimes I ask myself: why should I bother to change? Why should I have to work so hard to prove that I am no longer an addict; that I will no longer steal stuff or do anything to make the family shame?
I feel as my family, and as Christians, they should welcome me back. They should give me the benefit of the doubt. After all, I apologised and have begged for their forgiveness. I went through a programme to heal me, and that wasn’t easy. What more can I do? I can’t keep saying sorry all of the time.
What happened, happened. I can’t change that no matter how much I regret it.
This is why I asked that my story not be told until Easter. Because at Easter when people are praising God for allowing his son Jesus to be sacrificed on the cross for man’s sins, maybe members of my family who read this would realise that I am going crazy with the way that they treat me. It is as if I am a leper and I can infect them.
I did wrong. I know that. How many times can I say sorry? How many times must you remind me I messed up? And having reminded me what I have done, then what do you hope to gain?
It is a simple thing. If you treat someone like an outcast, after a while they will behave like one.
I am not saying that is what I will do or even want to do that. But after all, why keep harking back? I can’t change what I did. All I can do now is to make the days, months and years I have ahead of me a testimony to my recovery.
Sometimes I wonder if my family ever thinks about how much strength it takes for me to keep a straight face when I walk pass the block, only raising my hand at the fellows there, but never stopping to talk.
It was because of one of them that I got into drugs. He may be in jail now as he deserves, but I am sure there are others there who may be doing what he did.
That man preyed on my insecurities. He made me feel he cared about me, and that I was special. But all he was really doing was enticing me into a life where he could control me and do whatever he wanted to do to me, whenever he wanted to.
But even worse than that, when he was tired of me, he allowed some of those fellows to have me too. Whenever I think about that, it sickens me. But I can’t change that. No matter what I do in the future; no matter whatever I achieve, I will never be able to live down the fact that I was once a plaything for men because of my drug habit.Â
To me I am like the prodigal son in the Bible. I wasted my opportunities and went through a period of hardship. Then, with help, I came to my senses and returned home. I don’t expect anyone to forget what I did. All I am asking for is forgiveness and a chance to make a worthwhile contribution. I don’t think that is too much to ask.
I pray that my relatives, and those who have recovering addicts in their family, appreciate that we are truly sorry and ashamed of what we did. And, like the biblical prodigal son, we want to make amends. All we need is a chance.
